


To Understand And Accept

by queenofthewips (lilithduvare)



Series: Queenie's Stucky AU Mess [1]
Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: 5+1 Fic, 5+1 Things, Alternate Universe - Hospital, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - No Powers, But Bucky is there to take care of him, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Friends to Lovers, Friendship, Getting Together, M/M, Mild Angst, Pre-Serum Steve Rogers, Romance, Steve has a lot of health problems, Stubborn Steve, They actually communicate, in a strange way, some snark
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-08
Updated: 2016-10-15
Packaged: 2018-08-13 19:32:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,129
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7983553
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lilithduvare/pseuds/queenofthewips
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Being in love with your best friend is never easy, but if that best friend is Steve Rogers whose health issues are only surpassed by his stubbornness, then you're doomed from the start.</p><p>Or five times Bucky Barnes had to worry about Steve Rogers' health and the one time it was Steve's turn.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. 5 Times Bucky Had To Worry

**Author's Note:**

  * For [comedicdrama](https://archiveofourown.org/users/comedicdrama/gifts).



> This fic is my birthday gift to the wonderful [ComedicDrama](http://comedicdrama.tumblr.com) who promised to marry me one day. Happy birthday, darling, I wish I could give you cake too and a real hug.
> 
> This story is heavily based on the author's personal experiences with visiting hospitals and doctors, because she's actually the female version of Post-Serum Steve Rogers with the health issues still existing. It's also set somethwere in the European Union for the very simple reason that with the health issues Steve has in this fic he'd be be either dead or homeless in the States.
> 
>  
> 
> I hope you guys will enjoy it.

**1\. Chili**

“Let’s get, Chili, Buck. I’m going to be fine, Buck. Stop being a mother hen, Buck,” Bucky muttered in a comically heightened voice even as he pressed a damp towel against the back of Steve’s neck, who was practically hanging head first in the weird metal bowl a nurse had given them. A long, thin middle finger swam into his vision, then dropped almost instantly when another boost of retching wracked Steve’s body. “Easy there, pal. You can sass me out over being right after you showed this bowl just how much you love Mexican food. Again.”

“Shut… up,” Steve rasped, cutting a weak glare at Bucky. He was still heaving but seemed to be done for the moment.

Bucky ran his hand up and down on Steve’s heaving back, trying not to count the sharp vertebrae his fingers passed with every stroke. He had always been naturally… willowy. Waif-like. Not fragile, never that despite his almost translucent skin and delicate bones, but it was easy to underestimate him and write him off as a weakling. People never saw past the bird boned exterior, and Bucky hated yet secretly loved them for it. Hated because they kept disregarding Steve as someone not worth their time, but loved because it meant Bucky didn’t have to share him with anyone.

“I’d like to think this would teach you to stop messing with your body, but I know you too well,” Bucky grumbled under his breath.

“It’s not that bad.” Steve’s reply was emphasized by a sick sounding belch and a watery glare.

“Shut up, jerk,” he groused and then threw up again.

Bucky just snorted and moved his fingers up to pet his hair. They were in for a long night.

 

**2\. Bronchitis**

The chest pains weren’t anything new. It was just the beginning of summer and Steve’s allergies were acting up like always. Bucky couldn’t buy enough tissues to last him a whole day, and of course the eye drops and nose spray helped nothing, like always. So he shouldn’t have been surprised when Steve mentioned that his chest was aching a bit. Which, in Steve speech, meant that he could barely breathe probably.

Getting appointment for an x-ray, however, was harder than one would think even after moving to another continent and finding relatively well paying jobs. And universal health care. It had taken twenty minutes of Bucky cajoling and charming the nurse at their local medical center to move Steve’s appointment up to two weeks from five, and it was still a miracle he managed that much. And even then, he was still left worried that Steve would end up in the hospital long before his appointment.

He was right.

The pain turned into heavy coughs that practically wracked Steve’s body with every breath he managed to take. He was constantly short on breath and not even puffs from his inhaler and heavy, steam showers could free up his sinuses. Of course, he kept protesting and insisting that he was fine. That nothing was wrong, but he could barely push two words past the hacking of his lungs.

“That’s it, we’re going to the hospital,” Bucky said, rubbing Steve’s back as he was wheezing past a particularly violent fit that left the blanket covering him splattered with spit and green goo.

“Buck—”

“Shut up, there’s not a chance I’m letting this go on any longer,” Bucky cut in sharply. “At this rate, you’re not gonna live long enough to see next week, let alone your appointment.”

“But—”

“I said shut up.” He tossed Steve’s jacket on the foot of the bed before he shrugged into a sweater and rooted through the bottom of their closet for an umbrella he thought he had thrown in there once. “Can you put that on or do you need help?”

“I’m not an invalid,” Steve snapped, his voice nasally, but his movements were sluggish and fumbling.

Bucky cursed the weather for turning into a soppy mess after weeks of nearly scorching heat, then his inability to keep things in order as he yanked the battered old umbrella that had been hiding under his boots free. He pointed the blunt end of it at Steve with a raised eyebrow only to lower it a second later when he realized his hand was trembling too hard.

“Seriously, Bucky, it’s not that bad,” Steve rasped, halfway out of the bed already. He was pale as a ghost, his sharp cheekbones starker than ever and his blue eyes darkened with pain. He was lying.

“Yeah, well, we finally can enjoy unlimited visits to the doctor’s without having to sell our souls and then get a mortgage out on our great-parents’ graves on top of that, so a check up can’t hurt. If it’s not that bad.” Steve scowled at his pointed look, but allowed him to drape an arm over his narrow, bony shoulders.

They took an Uber to the hospital, ignoring the driver’s worried glances in the rearview mirror whenever Steve fell into a coughing fit that got longer and longer. He kept muttering, “I’m fine. Fine.” while Bucky scowled out the window at the pattering droplets of rain.

______________

 

It had to mean something about Steve’s health issues in the past seven months since their arrival to the country and the city that the doctor at the ER actually recognized him when they walked through the doors. Her silver streaked chestnut colored hair was pinned up neatly and her deep red painted lips were pulled into a faint smile while she listened to the rattling in Steve’s chest.

“It’s a simple bronchitis,” she said, hanging the stethoscope back around her neck. “But you really need to take better care of yourself.”

“With all due respect,” Steve started, but a wet cough interrupted whatever he wanted to say. “I’m fine,” gasped out once he managed to spit the phlegm that broke free from his lungs into the wad of tissue the doctor provided for him. Steve glared at the bunched up tissue paper, obviously sulking, and Bucky couldn’t hold back the grin that pulled at the corner of his mouth, but knew better than to say anything. Steve looked up at the doctor, trying to intimidate her into believing him despite the obvious signs that were working against him, but she just allowed her red lips to stretch wide and show hints of her white teeth, dark eyes sharp and shrewd. “I’m doing my best.”

“Well, do better then.” She lifted a neatly trimmed brow and nodded her head towards the tissues when Steve immediately opened his mouth to rebuke her. “You don’t want to worry, poor Mr. Barnes here unnecessarily, do you?”

“No, ma’am,” Steve muttered under his breath, cutting a quick glance at Bucky. Bucky wiped the grin off his face hastily and shrugged. She was good, Bucky had to hand her that.

“Good.” She nodded, satisfied. “You don’t need any prescription drugs, but try to rest as much as possible and don’t forget to drink. Also you can ask Mr. Barnes to rub Vapor Rub into your chest and back. If your temperature raises, take some fever reducers. Only use your inhaler in the case of asthma attacks.”

“Nose spray?” Bucky asked with a grimace. “The ones he tried didn’t work at all.”

“If he’s not allergic and his lungs can take it, five to ten minutes of chamomile steam inhalation might help with the stuffy nose,” Dr. Carter offered. “No excitement, and definitely no strenuous activities.” She shot a warning look at Bucky, who felt his cheeks heat up for no valid reason.

It wasn’t like he and Steve got up to… He cleared his throat and studiously avoided looking at Steve. It was best not even to think about it. They were friends and that was that. Bucky was okay with that. Really.

“I can take care of myself,” Steve gritted out, his tone clipped as he was glaring up at Dr. Carter. “Thank you for seeing me.”

“Take care, Steve,” she replied, not fazed at all by Steve’s rudeness. “You too, Mr. Barnes. And take care of him, too,” she added in a whisper when he shook her hand, winking at him cheekily. “Be safe, boys.”

Bucky hurried after Steve, pulling his best friend to his side with less tenderness than Steve’s illness would have demanded. “You were a total asshole to the good doctor,” he said sharply, daring Steve to deny it.

“I wasn’t rude,” Steve protested, digging his elbow into Bucky’s ribs. “But I’m not a fucking invalid.”

“And no one treats you like one,” Bucky shot back, ruffling Steve’s hair. “So stop pouting and next time, say sorry to Dr. Carter. She was just helping.”

“I know! But you don’t understand, no, you can’t understand how it feels like to live in this useless piece of shit body!” Steve exploded, whirling around to face Bucky.

They were only a few feet away from the ER entrance, but fortunately the rain had finally let up, leaving behind cool, misty night air and slowly disappearing clouds in its stead. The street was deserted, for which Bucky was eternally thankful, because he knew if Steve worked himself into a right state he would either land his skinny ass back through those doors or would keep ranting until someone tried to shut him up. With their fists. Which left Bucky with only one option.

“Maybe I can,” he said before Steve could have gone on. “Maybe not the part where you feel like shit and weak and pathetic and useless. But I sure as hell can understand spending entire nights awake, listening to your heartbeat or keeping my palm on your chest to make sure you’re still breathing. I can understand crouching behind you and holding a damp towel to the nape of your neck while you’re emptying your stomach because you have zero self-preservation and eat shit you shouldn’t. I can fucking understand switching the cold compress on your shivering but burning body while you’re completely out of it. So stop bitching over being useless. Because you’re anything but. You are the strongest guy I’ve ever seen and I admire you for it. I admire the hell out of you and your stubborn ass, so shut up and let’s go home so we don’t have to come back for a while.”

He was left panting and staring into his best friend’s widened eyes and slightly open mouth that slowly formed a perfect little circle and allowed Steve to say, “Oh.” And that was it. No screaming, no swearing, no ranting. Just a surprised little sound, the kind that leaves someone’s mouth when there’s nothing left to say. Because Bucky didn’t just confess his everlasting love in the middle of an empty street after yet another trip to the hospital.

He didn’t.

He did not say, “I love you.”

Even if he did. Love Steve that is.

Clearing his throat awkwardly, Bucky shrugged and offered Steve a hesitant grin. “So, home?”

“Yeah, home,” Steve agreed, subdued, eyes cast down.

Bucky hummed and bumped his arm against Steve’s shoulder, his smile widening when Steve pushed back. He called another Uber, refusing to let Steve take the tube, at least not while he wasn’t on the mend, then leaned against a lamppost and stared up at the still murky, dark sky. Steve was hovering in front of him, feet shuffling and fingers fidgeting with the zip on his jacket. Bucky had half the mind to whack him on the head with the folded umbrella in his right hand, because it was obvious that Steve was itching to say something.

“Hey, Buck?” Steve spoke up a few minutes later.

“Yeah, punk?”

“Thanks… for understanding.”

And what was there to say to that? Nothing. Instead, Bucky reached out and reeled Steve in, pulling him against his chest for a hug that lasted until the Uber arrived and honked at them.

Because that was what best friends did.   

They understood.

 

**3\. X-Ray**

The fact that Steve broke his hand while getting into a scuffle with some assholes didn’t actually surprise Bucky. The fact that Steve did it while actually landing a hit did. It wasn’t that Steve thought his best friend was bad at fighting, okay scratch that, Steve was terrible at fighting. He hit like he imagined he was at least a foot taller and a hundred pounds heavier, always overbalancing and earning himself dark, swollen eyes and colorful bruises. This time, his fist met with skin and bone, yet it was still his fingers that broke and not the asshole’s face.

Dr. Carter just sighed when she saw them and the way Steve was cradling his hand like a porcelain egg. She waved them into the examination room that was becoming disturbingly familiar and told Steve to hop on the table and hold out his hand. Steve gritted his teeth when her gloved hand carefully touched the swollen already darkening skin over his knuckles and fingers, but Bucky could hear the strangled groan that stuck in his throat.

“I’ll ring Radiology so they’ll expect you, but you might have to wait a bit. It’s football night at the pub two blocks away, which you obviously know.” Bucky snorted at that, remembering the last time they had to visit the ER on game day. The waiting room had been full of bleeding, black-eyed, and bruised men. And a few women.

“Nah, not huge fans of soccer,” he replied with a rakish smirk. “If I wanted to see that much faking for ninety minutes, I’d rent some—”

“Thank you, Dr. Carter,” Steve cut in quietly but firmly, and slid off the examination table, hissing when his hand jostled. He was studiously keeping his eyes on the floor, ignoring Bucky and the doctor as if that would help him get out of getting an x-ray.

“Really, thank you, doc,” Bucky echoed his best friend with more sincerity, but the doctor just rolled her eyes. “And have fun with all the fans.”

“Barnes, go take care of your boy, instead of getting smart with me.” She shooed him out of the room, ignoring Steve’s mutinous glare.

“You’re such a dick,” Steve gritted out, staring down at his broken hand.

“Takes one to know one,” Bucky snipped back just as he pushed the button to call the elevator. “Should have gotten you a wheelchair to gain more sympathy.”

“Because that’d’ve worked with all the battered people already waiting there.” Steve rolled his eyes so hard at him that Bucky was afraid they would roll right out their sockets for a moment. “It’s not—”

“If you say it’s not that bad, I’m gonna kick your ass, Rogers,” Bucky warned. “You broke your hand because you just can’t walk away from a fight.”

“Says the guy who’s always right there with me.”

“Where else would I be, huh?”

“Anywhere else?”

“As if I’d ever leave you behind.”

“Yeah, well same back at you.”

“Good.”

“Good.”

The elevator door opens with a ding, preventing them from saying anything else. The obviously exhausted nurse barely spares them a glance, but the man with one of his eyes hidden by a patch and his left arm in a cast smirks at Steve just as his companion, a middle aged man in a suit and with a receding hairline, pushes him away in his wheelchair.

“You think he’s some super spy?” Bucky asks when the elevator door closes.

“Do spies wear suits?”

“No, I meant the old guy, with the eye patch. He totally looks like a super spy to me. Just imagine him in black leather.” Bucky wiggled his eyebrows, earning a snort and a little laugh from Steve.

“I think you’re thinking of a different scene, Buck,” he quipped, smirking and blue eyes glittering.

“And whose mind is in the gutter now?”

“My best friend is a notorious sex offender. He’s a bad influence.”

“You should kick him to the curb and pick a better one, like me,” Bucky said, blowing a kiss for good measure. His overly puckered lips and the expression on his face sent Steve into a snickering fit just as they arrived on the seventh floor.

The waiting room was nearly packed but they managed to find two chairs next to a little table with years old women’s and health magazines. The doctor had been right, most of the people around them looked like they had been in a bar fight and lost spectacularly. Some didn’t even look sober enough to be there, but they all looked worn out and at the end of their rope, so Bucky quickly turned his attention to the table next to him and grabbed the first magazine he could reach.

“If you start reading out 20 Ways To Use Your Boobs In Bed, I’ll bury you alive,” Steve warned him with his eyes narrowed at another glossy piece still on the table, and it gave Bucky the perfect idea.

He looked at the magazine’s cover for a second, then, grin wide and Cheshire-like, he opened it and quickly found the page he was looking for. The look he sent Steve made his best friend swallow and look around quickly before kicking him in the shin. Only to groan when the movement once again jostled his hand.

“Just for that you get a special performance,” Bucky said and cleared his throat. “4 Fab New Vibrators,” he read, his voice high and comically whiny. Steve pressed his lips together, aiming for disapproving but the way his eyes crinkled up belied his struggle to hold his amusement back. “Now look at these gems, Stevie. This one,” he pointed at the picture of an egg shaped, pink vibrator with a hole in the middle, “should be your all-time partner if you want a little, discrete alone time. It’s quiet and makes your inner goddess feel like fireworks exploded inside her.” He tried to sound as reverent as possible, looking at Steve with wide, hopefully beseeching eyes before he changed his tone out of nowhere, again. “Which is pretty interesting, considering this is supposed to be a clitoris massager. What do you think? Worth investing in one?”

“I don’t know, Buck, that hole seems to be a perfect fit for you,” Steve sniped back, but his voice was low, so only Bucky could hear him.

Bucky’s jaw dropped for a moment, not expecting the clever barb, which had been a stupid move. Steve liked to act all proper and uptight in public—until he got himself into yet another fight—but underneath the altar boy, angelic exterior, he was a rotten pervert with one of the dirtiest mind Bucky had ever seen. No surprise his fancy little web comic that was full of lewd nudity and oozed sex despite it being set during WWII became so popular so fast.

Bucky was incredibly proud of him for his success and the way the online community just adored him for his talent and strong personality. But at the same time, the fear that it was only a matter of time before someone from the real world recognize the greatness in Steve and sweep him off his feet. With flowers—which turned Steve into a snot and drool covered mess—, and chocolate—which made Steve’s skin break out in angry red rashes—and romance—of which Steve had about zero idea beyond his fixation on the ‘right person’. Still, with each passing day, the time Steve would say goodbye to him was getting closer, yet all Bucky could make himself do was to spill his heart in a deserted street, but only in a fucked up way and act like an idiot who said things like, “I could take out for you to measure it if it’s a good fit.” to make Steve turn crimson and then laugh at him until he was a choking, wheezing mess and a nurse had to be called to help him because his inhaler got lost in the fight. Naturally.

At least it got them bumped up in waiting list. If only for Steve to be herded into one of those uncomfortable sterile smelling beds not long after his hand was set into a cast because the doctors wanted to keep him in for the night. Just to be sure his latest adventure didn’t cause any lasting harm.

If Bucky charmed his way into staying with Steve for the night, well best friends did that all the time.

 

**4\. Hormones**

Steve insisted it was just the weather playing tricks with his blood pressure, which Bucky would have believed if it hadn’t been drizzling slush steadily for nearly two days. With no promise of change in the slightest. And if it hadn’t happened four more times in the past three weeks. Even at that moment, he was lying on their couch with a cool bottle of water pressed to his forehead, sluggish and barely conscious. His eyes were glazed as he blinked up at Bucky, offering a dopey, lopsided smile.

“I’ll be b’t’r sooon,” he slurred, waving his now only bandaged hand around until his clumsy fingers scrapped at Bucky’s wrist. “Buuuck, y’re so pr’tty. And good. And p’rfect. Yeeash, y’re perrrf’ct.”

“Sshh, Stevie. Try to rest, okay?” Bucky said gently, crouching down to card his fingers through Steve’s messy, blond hair.

He ignored the way his heart started to hammer in his chest, making it nearly impossible to think, because his feelings and any possibility of Steve returning them were secondary at the moment.

Steve needed him.

And that was the only thing that mattered.

He checked Steve’s pulse and temperature, but while the first was a bit slower than usual the second was perfectly normal. He looked pale and there were dark circles shading his eyes, but otherwise nothing seemed to be wrong. Steve didn’t look sick, at least not more than he did on his bad days. Yet he kept fainting. And falling asleep whenever his head hit a horizontal surface.

It never lasted more than a few seconds, the fainting, but afterward Steve was disoriented and dizzy for a while, needing at least half an hour to find his way back to the present. His naps, on the other hand, were sporadic in length. Sometimes they lasted for twenty minutes, sometimes for hours, but they never made Steve seem or feel revitalized. If anything, he looked even more tired after waking up.

It worried Bucky. Steve might have thought that it was nothing—he always thought that unless he was in one of his funks—but Bucky knew better. So, after Steve slipped back into sleep, he stood up and with a last caress to Steve’s cheek, he pulled his phone out of his back pocket to dial Steve’s doctor’s office. Doctor Phillips’ assistant was sympathetic but unapologetic when she told Bucky that the earliest date she could pen Steve in was the following Tuesday, thanks to some virus that seemed to spread out in the area overnight. The made Bucky grit his teeth in frustration, but there was nothing to do. And really, it wasn’t like whatever was going on with Steve was life threatening.

At least Bucky didn’t think so.

Until Steve fainted on the street and had to be rushed to the hospital because he hit his head.

The phone call came while Bucky was at work, putting the finishing touches on the schematics of new robotic prosthetic arm Stark Industries was planning to present at the World Expo next year. The project was Bucky’s baby, one he had been working on with Howard Stark’s prodigy of a son for the better part of the last two years. Fortunately, Bucky’s request to be relocated to the European headquarters hadn’t made him lose the project, and seeing it coming to fruition, even if only on a holographic projector for the time being, left him bursting with the need to call Tony and pick his brains for hours about any possible modification they would need to make before sending the plans over to the engineers.

He was about to push the call icon next to the picture of Tony’s smug face on his tablet when his phone rang and a clipped, no nonsense voice told him that his ‘partner’ was taken to the hospital with a head injury. His first thought was to call out whoever was on the other end of the line on her stupid joke because Bucky didn’t have a partner. But when the woman didn’t take it back even after a minute of shocked silence, it dawned on Bucky that she was serious. And it could only mean that Steve was in the hospital.

“How is he?” he managed to stutter out, words eluding him. His head was reeling, his elation long forgotten.

“Mr. Rogers’ condition is stable, but I cannot give you more information over the phone, Mr. Barnes.”

“Yeah, okay, I understand. I’m on my way.”

He had no idea what he told his boss’ assistant before he stormed out of the office, hailing a cab the moment he stepped out the building. His heart was racing, and despite the nurse’s clipped reassurance, he was far from calm. Because Steve was in the hospital and who knew what had happened to him. Being in a stable condition didn’t mean he was fine. If he was, he wouldn’t be in the hospital to begin with.

Swallowing heavily, Bucky paid the taxi driver and rushed into the hospital, nearly crashing into the reception desk in his haste to find out where Steve was held. The nurse took one look at his face and the traces of cool irritation dissipated from her face, immediately. Her voice was quiet and soothing as she asked Bucky if she could help him, and it worked somewhat. Bucky took a deep breath, and did his best to stay polite and nice despite the clawing need to shake the woman for withholding the information she needed.

“Mr. Rogers is in Room 107, sir,” she replied after a few seconds of typing. “On the first floor.”

“Thank you.”

He took the stairs two at a time while trying to prepare himself for the worst. He was telling himself he was ready for tubes and ominously beeping machines. Ready for a broken body. He wasn’t ready for Steve in an ugly hospital gown sitting in the elevated bed with a sheepish grin on his face. Seemingly unharmed, bar for the small bandage on the corner of his forehead.

“Hey, Buck,” he said, smile dimming at whatever he saw at Bucky’s face. “I’m sorry you had to come all the way here for nothing.”

“You’re shitting me,” was the only thing Bucky could force past his lips, his body sagging against the wall next to him. He felt like all his energy had left him and he couldn’t wrap his mind around what he was saying. “They told me…” He couldn’t finish the thought.

“Yeah, sorry.” Steve averted his eyes guiltily, shrugging his shoulders. “I kinda fainted on the street.”

“Kinda fainted…”

“Yeah, it just happened?”

“It just—” Bucky cut himself off, feeling like an idiotic parrot for repeating everything Steve said. “You know what, I’m not touching that with a thousand foot pole. Just, how are you?”

Steve had the grace to look ashamed, biting into his lip while he raised his most innocent gaze on Bucky, as if it had ever worked after the first few years of their friendship. “Fine. Really,” he added with more conviction at Bucky’s disbelieving expression. “A little dizzy, but it’s normal, or so the doctor said. I don’t even have a concussion.”

“Then what’s wrong?”

“They don’t know yet. I got bag of IV. They took some blood. Said my blood pressure was low. That I should eat more like I was a fucking kid, Buck. Can you believe it?” Steve growled, folding his arms in front of his chest to complete the picture of a sulking kid throwing a tantrum.

“You fainted on the street, Steve. Let me guess, you forgot to eat your breakfast, again,” Bucky retorted, earning an unintelligible mutter and flushed cheeks in answer.

“I was in a hurry,” Steve protested. “I wanted to drop the designs off in the office as soon as possible, and then…” he trailed off, his face turning even redder.

“Then what?”

Steve didn’t reply, staring resolutely down at the starched blanket covering his lap.

“Stevie?” Steve’s shoulders tensed when Bucky sat down on the edge of the bed and placed a hand over Steve’s thigh. “What did you want?”

“Wanted to ask you out for lunch,” he murmured under his breath after another long moment of silence.

Any other time, it wouldn’t have been strange. They went out for lunch almost every week, sometimes more, depending on how much time they had. But there was something about Steve’s body language and tone that told Bucky this time he had planned to do something different.

Could it mean?

No, surely not.

Except for those drowsy, barely understandable words on the couch a few days ago, Steve had never said anything about having feelings for Bucky. Feelings that were anything but friendship. Could he really hope that his feelings weren’t one-sided? Or was Steve simply just embarrassed over inconveniencing him once again? Ashamed that he couldn’t even do something as simple as inviting his best friend for lunch without landing himself in the hospital?

There was only one way to find out.

Bucky moved his hand to cover Steve’s still bandaged knuckles gently, drawing Steve’s attention. “Steve?”

“I…” Steve took a deep breath and looked up to meet Bucky’s eyes head on. His gaze was determined, but there was a hint of resignation hiding in the blue depths, too. As if he had long ago prepared himself for being denied what he wanted. “I understand that you’re always there. I understand that you get angry for me. I understand that you want to protect me. To take care of me,” he said, his tone firm and sincere. “But…”

Bucky closed his eyes, mentally preparing himself for getting let down in the gentlest way possible, because of course Steve would never want to hurt his feelings intentionally. He didn’t need to see Steve’s face to know it probably hurt Steve as more as it hurt him to do this. But Steve was strong, much stronger than Bucky ever could be. For a minute it looked like he wouldn’t continue, wouldn’t break Bucky’s heart, but then he started speaking again and Bucky lost all hope for a happy ending.

“But understanding alone is not enough, Buck.” He turned his hand and laced their fingers together, causing Bucky’s eyes to snap open in shock. “We need accept not only each other’s but our own limits, too. Otherwise we can never move forward.”

Bucky opened his mouth, then closed it, not knowing what to say. Or what to even think, really. “Do you mean…?”

“I mean, I will always be your best friend, but it’s not the only thing I want to be.”

“Oh.” Okay, that sounded lame, and if he wasn’t clinging to Steve’s hand like a lifeline, probably hurting his still tender bones, Steve would have pulled back and taken his pathetic lack of eloquence as a refusal. Which, just no. Bucky really wasn’t saying no, here. Not when he had been waiting for this moment for the better part of the last decade of their friendship. “I… Yeah, me too.”

“Bucky?” Steve asked, but he was already smiling.

“I want—” He didn’t get to finish because the doctor and a nurse decided it was the perfect moment to walk in and interrupt their moment just like in a cheesy romantic movie. Except this was their lives and despite Bucky’s useless, stupidly failing brain, they both knew they wanted the same thing.

“Ah, Steven, how are we?” the doctor asked with a jovial smile, his accent thick with something foreign.

“Much better, doctor, thank you,” Steve replied, his cheeks pink and his smile just as wide as the doctor’s. “When can I go home?”

“Already bored with our hospitality?” the doctor joked before turning to Bucky and offered his hand. “You must be Mr. Roger’s partner, good to meet you, I’m Doctor Erskine.”

For the fraction of a second, Bucky wanted to correct him, but in the end he just decided to fuck it and nodded. If Steve had any objections, he could open his big mouth and say so. “Yeah, I’m James Barnes. Thank you for taking care of this punk.”

“Just doing my job.” Doctor Erskine nodded his head. “Like Mr. Rogers here should do his and rest.”

“But I feel fine,” Steve argued. “Nothing’s wrong with me.”

“Hm...” The doctor looked down at the clipboard in his hands, but did not react any other way. “Alright. If nothing happens tonight, you’re free to go in the morning. But I expect you back in three days for a checkup and to go over your blood test results.”

“It takes three days to get the results?” Bucky asked, surprised. It never took that long before from what he could remember of the several blood tests Steve had to go through and the few he himself did.

“In this case, yes,” the doctor replied, unconcerned. “We’re checking Steven’s hormone levels and those tests take some time.”

“My hormone levels?” Steve frowned.

“Yes. In some cases, unbalanced thyroid levels can cause fatigue and fainting, both of which you’ve shown signs off in the last several weeks,” Erskine explained. “If I’m right and that’s the case, you have nothing to worry about. One little pill every morning, and you don’t even have to think about it anymore.”

“I already take about five different pills every morning,” Steve deadpanned.

“You can choose to keep fainting, of course.”

“But it’s not even sure I have hormone problems.”

“Yes, well, that’s the best case scenario. Of course there is the usual case of anemia, but as you are taking your iron tablets, it shouldn’t be a problem.”

“What is the worst case scenario?” Bucky just had to ask. He had to know.

“Considering Steve’s last x-ray results are not even two months old and there was no sign of tumor or any lesions? With Steve’s childhood arrhythmia, I would say a heart disease is the most likely.” Erskine’s tone was grave and thoughtful, allowing them to digest what they just heard for a few moments before he clapped his hands together, smiling once again. “That little pill sounds better, doesn’t it?”

“Yeah…” Steve breathed, his eyes glued to the far wall.

“Worry not, young Steven, enjoy your rest. It will be fine.”

Bucky watched the doctor leave the room with the quiet, red haired nurse in his heels, before he turned to Steve and pulled him against his side. “It will be okay, Stevie,” he whispered, brushing a light kiss against Steve’s temple. “You’ll see.”

“And if it’s my heart?” Steve’s voice was barely audible as he buried his face into Bucky’s shoulder.

“Then we’ll deal with it as we should. Together.”

“I can’t ask you—”

“To the end of the line, remember?”

“Yeah, the end of the line.”

They did not seal the vow with a kiss like Bucky ached to. It was neither the place nor the time, but the hope was there in the way Steve was clinging to him and the little, whispered promises neither of them knew how to keep for sure.

Three days later Doctor Erskine told Steve he had a mild case of Hypothyroidism and Bucky couldn’t wait any longer. He grabbed Steve around the waist and pulled in for a deep, inappropriately long kiss that left Doctor Erskine laughing and Steve flushed to the roots of his blond hair.

 

**5\. Glasses**

Bucky didn’t know he had a thing for glasses until Steve was forced to get one. Well, if he was honest with himself, it was less about the glasses and about Steve wearing them, his bright blue eyes enlarged by the lenses and their brilliance enhanced tenfold. Adding his cheeky little smirks into the mix, and Bucky had to adjust himself in his pants whenever he looked at his boyfriend because the image of Steve straddling him with his near translucent skin on display in its sweat gleaming glory, glasses slid down the bridge of his nose was too much for him.

Naturally, like most things, it started with Steve being his usual stubborn ass self. Bucky had noticed before that he kept squinting at things he was reading, a deep frown marring his forehead. At first, he didn’t think it was anything serious. Maybe something Steve read was angering him. Or he was trying to puzzle out some one of his classmates’ notes. But it became a regular thing and did not only happen when Steve was reading a book. No, Bucky noticed that he was squinting at his computer screen too and his drawing board as well at times.

Then the headaches started.

Steve tried to hide them, of course. Muttering “nothing”, when Bucky asked what was wrong. He popped Ibuprofen in secret, and Bucky wouldn’t have noticed if he hadn’t gotten a headache himself after a long day at the office listening to Tony throw a three hour tantrum over the incompetency of the R&D department and how he wanted Bucky back by his side. Seeing the mostly empty packet, made him suspicious instantly, but Steve, the little shit tried to weasel himself out of the situation by smiling sweetly and pulling Bucky down for a kiss that got heated in the matter of seconds.

Or would have, if Bucky’s fingers hadn’t clenched around the sharp edge of the pill packet, causing him to pull back and glare down at Steve.

“Don’t even think about it, doll,” he said, eyes narrowed. “You’ve been lying to me for the past how many weeks exactly?”

“I haven’t been lying,” Steve insisted but the way he looked to the side said otherwise. “It’s really nothing.”

“That’s why this is almost empty, right?” He waved the packet in front of Steve’s face. “Because it’s nothing.”

“Okay, so I get a headache sometimes. It’s not a crime. Everyone does,” Steve replied, defensive.

“Sometimes, huh?” Bucky raised an eyebrow, looking at the packet. “The box comes with three packs, punk. I took one right after I bought it, and none since then. So, try again.”

Steve let out a deep sigh, lips thinned into a white line. It was the usual Steve Rogers tactic of avoiding problems until they blew up in his face. This time, however, Bucky wasn’t waiting until it happened. He wasn’t stupid, it didn’t take much of a guess to figure out Steve was having problems with his eyes. Becca, Bucky’s sister, had similar problems before she got her glasses when they were kids. But the fact that after everything, after the heart disease scare, Steve was still pulling the same bullshit pissed Bucky off beyond belief. Still, he tried to stay calm and hear Steve out.

“It’s not that bad. Really, Buck.” Steve’s expression was so earnest, yet still stubborn to the very end that Bucky wanted to believe him.

Except he couldn’t.

“How long have you had problems with your vision, Steve?” he asked, quiet and disappointed even to his own ears.

“Buck… about four months.”

“I see.”

“Bucky—”

“It’s okay, Steve. It’s your body, and you’re an adult. You can take care of yourself.” He stepped back and put the pill packet next to Steve on the table. “I’ll see you later.”

He grabbed his coat and walked out of their home, needing some time to himself. He didn’t expect to be so disappointed. Not when a part of him knew it would take time for Steve to open up about his need for help. Knew that just because they were kissing and touching each other like lovers instead of friends, Steve wouldn’t suddenly turn into someone else. Yet, it still hurt. Because he wished the change in their relationship to be instant and obvious beyond the kissing and the fucking.

Maybe… no, there was no maybe about it. He had expected too much too soon and then blamed Steve for not changing. That did not mean that Steve had been in the right to hide his problems from Bucky. But that was who Steve was. He had always been like that, trying to spare everyone around him and never understanding that worry didn’t work that way. That it didn’t disappear just because he was trying to hide his pain, his illness, his problems.

In the past, Bucky would have blown up and then they would have had a huge fight about Steve’s stupid recklessness. In the past, it would have been Steve who stormed away, leaving it up to Bucky to keep worrying and eventually swallow back his pride and go looking for him. This time, Bucky didn’t want to fight. He was so tired of running in circles and never getting anywhere. He was tired of repeating the same things again and again without being heard. He just wanted to enjoy and explore the new direction their connection was leading them.

Unfortunately, life was never that easy. Especially if you were in love with the world’s most headstrong idiot.

With a heavy sigh, Bucky turned back towards their apartment, only just realizing how far he had walked while he was lost in his thoughts. He didn’t know if Steve was still sitting on the couch, waiting for him to come back, or if he had gone and hid away in his old room, licking his wounds.  A few weeks ago he would have bet on the second option, but he wanted to believe that his own changes were reflected in Steve too, at least to some extent.

He reached into the back pocket of his jeans to pull his phone out and check for any missed message, but his hand came up empty, making him realize that he had left his phone at home. Cursing himself for his idiocy and carelessness, he hurried his steps to get back as soon as possible. Which was how he almost crashed right into Steve when they both were turning a corner from the opposite direction.

“Steve? What are you doing here?” Bucky couldn’t help but ask, his hands still resting on Steve’s narrow but heavily bundled up shoulders where he put them to prevent them from colliding.

“Looking for you,” Steve replied, subdued. “You… left.”

“I needed some time to clear my head.”

“That was… different.”

“Yeah. It was.”

“Are you coming home?”

“Yes.”

“Are you angry?”

“No.”

“Yeah, right.”

Bucky huffed out a breath and pulled Steve against his chest, burying his nose in the winter cold blond strands. “I’m not angry, punk. I just had to face some hard truths.”

“Buck—”

“No, it’s fine. I’m fine.”

“No, you’re not.”

Bucky didn’t say anything to that, just steered Steve back towards their apartment. Steve was tense under his arm and his jaw was clenched, practically bursting with the need to fill the quiet that had fallen between them. But he didn’t. They got through their apartment door without Steve bringing up Bucky’s lie. Or their not really argument. Bucky went through his nightly routine, discarding his clothes and brushing his teeth, feeling alien in his own skin.

He wanted to say something, to be the bigger person. But he didn’t because the ball was on Steve’s court now. It was his turn to decide where he wanted to take their bond. And, as Bucky just realized as he was getting into bed, that decision really had nothing to do with romance. Just like the evening and hurt feelings hadn’t been about starting a lover’s quarrel either. He left the lamp on Steve’s bedside table on but turned his own off, looking up when he heard the shuffle of Steve’s socked feet in the doorway.

“Do you want me to sleep in… my room?” The question was as absurd as understandable in their current situation.

“Come ‘ere.” Bucky patted the space next to him, his smile pulling at the corner of his lips. “This is your bed, too.”

“Doesn’t mean you want me in it,” Steve argued, but was already moving closer. “Or that I didn’t hurt you,” he added so quietly Bucky almost missed it.

“I’ll always want you in our bed. And by my side,” he whispered into Steve’s ear pulling him close. “Nothing can change that.”

“Not even my inability to ask for help? Or my stubbornness? Or pride?”

Bucky bit back the laugh that was tickling his throat. Steve didn’t deserve to be laughed at even if he sounded like he just ate something vile saying those words. “You forget I’ve known you practically all our lives. And still picked your dumb ass as my best friend.”

“Doesn’t make my lies acceptable.”

“No, it doesn’t.”

Steve looked down at their linked hands lying between them, most of his face obscured by the dim light, but it only made him look even sadder. “Then why…?”

Why did he let him back in? Why didn’t he leave? Why didn’t he turn Steve away? The possibilities were endless, but the answer was easy.

“Because I understand and I want to accept, too,” Bucky said and dived in to swallow Steve gasp with a kiss.

A week later Steve was waiting for him with his newly arrived glasses framing his face perfectly.

  
  
  



	2. And one time Steve had to worry instead

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It took me embarrassingly long to write the second part, but it's finally done. Sorry, CD, but I hope it makes up for the delay at least a little.
> 
> Thank you for reading it and I hope you'll like it. I chose to switch to Present tense in this chapter on purpose, because I really wanted to make a difference between Bucky's and Steve's POV. Also because the first chapter is sort of a recap of events that had Bucky worried for Steve, while the second chapter is happening almost real time. (If such thing exist in fanfiction).
> 
> It's still unbeta'd so any errors are mine.

+1. Broken

Steve knows fear. He knows the freezing bite of waiting for your body to give up, useless. He knows the gnawing terror of your lungs closing up, suffocating you until you’re clawing at your throat wishing it would just end. He knows the mind crumbling numbness of watching someone you love waste away, helpless. He knows the hopeless desolation left behind by lowering your mother’s empty husk into the ground. And yet, he didn’t know what to to with the earth shattering panic that threatened to stop his heart when he picked up his phone three hours earlier and a sympathetic but detached voice told him Bucky had been in an accident and taken to the hospital.

Now, three hours and five cups of horribly watery coffee later, he’s sitting by Bucky’s bedside, hands shaking even pressed against his jean clad thighs. His fingers bite into the cheap plastic cup, fortunately empty, and he just can’t keep his eyes off Bucky’s unnaturally still, battered face and count the beeps of the heart rate monitor. Bucky’s left arm is secured in a sling to prevent him from moving once he wakes up, his collar bone and the visible part of his freshly shaven chest is stained orange while also littered with dark bruises that match the left side of his face that looks practically like one giant hurt. He looks barely alive, broken, despite what the doctor has told Steve.

Bucky is expecting a full recovery.

That’s what the doctor said, but it’s almost impossible to believe at the moment. Not with Bucky lying in a sterile bed, his lids hiding his bright, all-seeing eyes. Not with Bucky unconscious, sleeping off the anesthesia but looking more dead than alive. Not with Bucky…

Bucky…

Steve clamps his eyes shut to fight back the telltale burning and swallows around the barbed wire suddenly squeezing his throat shut. This must be his punishment for all the times he was a careless asshole, landing himself in the hospital. For forcing Bucky to constantly worry about him and watch helplessly Steve struggle against the uselessness of his body. For never really thinking twice about what he’s been putting Bucky through, not even after their last fight… not until now.

Steve isn’t used to being the one left to watch his life crumble around him without Bucky being there. He just doesn’t know what to do.

He tries reaching for Bucky’s hand, but his fingers are too unsteady, too clumsy, and the back of Bucky’s hand is laden with the cannula and the IV tube that helps him stay hydrated and pain free. So he settles for letting the tip of his fingers brush against Bucky’s nails. Their surface is smooth, unblemished, unlike his the ones on his bruised left hand. Those are stained the same orange his chest is, the one on his index finger cracked while the one on his middle finger missing entirely.

It’s not supposed to be like this.

Bucky is supposed to be strong. Invincible. Unbreakable. A god.

Maybe it’s unfair. After all, Bucky has never claimed to be anything but human despite his unfailing strength Steve selfishly kept siphoning and devouring. Only ever caring about his agendas, his goals, his problems. Himself. And isn’t payback a bitch? Forcing him to reflect on his own greed and egoism. It sucks, it hurts, but it’s nothing less than what Steve deserves after all the shit he has put Bucky through.

He looks at Bucky’s sleeping face and can’t withhold the need to touch his matted hair. He raises his free hand, carding his fingers through the slightly oily tresses, watching out for the slightest sign of disturbance, but it still takes Bucky what feels like hours to start regaining his consciousness.

It’s not a gradual thing. Bucky’s lashes don’t flutter, he doesn’t get a cute little frown or smack his lips like people do in movies. No, one second he’s perfectly still, the next his eyes are open and his mouth is curled around a pained groan. There is nothing sweet or cute about the way he grits his teeth and the way his finger flex under Steve’s hand. His entire body is one thin-stretched line of stress, but he’s obviously still far from being coherent even when his clouded gaze finds Steve.

“Hurts,” he whines, and it’s really a whine, high and keen like a wounded animal. “My shoulder hurts so much.”

“Shh, you’re okay, Buck,” Steve murmurs, having no idea what to say. He’s out of his element, never before having to be the one to do the comforting. At least not when it wasn’t more than some stupid cold or a bad case of hangover.

“But it hurts,” Bucky argues weakly, sounding petulant even as his eyes slowly slip shut again.

Steve almost expects him to sleep for another hour or more, but when a nurse comes in twenty minutes later to check on the IV drip Bucky is opening his eyes again, this time with a dopey smile that still has an edge of pain to it. He flashes a wobbly grin at Steve, then moves his right hand out of Steve’s gentle hold and lifts it to Steve’s hair petting the mussed locks.

“Ya r’lly pretty,” he slurs. “’lmost ‘s pretty as mah b— St’vie. St’vie ‘s the pr’ttiest.” Steve feels his face heat up at the barely coherent words, clearing his throat when the nurse chuckles quietly at the IV stand. He covers Bucky’s clumsy fingers with his own hand, squeezing softly.

“Yeah?” he asks, voice unsteady. “Your Stevie?”

“Yah, prettiest guy evah.” Bucky’s smile widens. “L’ve him too much. But h’s always r’ckl’. Hurts.”

Steve feels like someone kicked him in the chest and it takes him a heroic effort to keep breathing. He knows he’s hurt Bucky probably countless times with his reckless idiocy. But hearing it put to words… hearing it from Bucky who should be thinking about nice things, about anything but how Steve has been an utter dick, causing him pain, it’s a pain Steve has never known before. Having screaming matches that nearly come to blows has nothing on it. Getting the silent treatment after one of his more exceptionally stupid stints has nothing on it. And to hear that Bucky still loves him…

Bucky loves him.

Steve squeezes his eyes shut unable to comprehend those words. Yes, he is aware that Bucky loves him. They’ve been best friends practically all their lives. And they have been in a relationship for nearly half a year now. A real, romantic relationship. So yes, he he knows that Bucky has more than friendly feelings towards him. But he hasn’t said he loved Steve before. Not when it meant more than a declaration of kinship. Of friendship.

Not when it was a confession.

Steve opens his eyes to see Bucky’s gaze trained on his face, confusion written all over it, and it’s instinct to take the hand in his hair and pull it down to his lips. He breathes a small kiss on the warm skin, the small, soft hairs on Bucky’s fingers tickling his lips. “I’m sure… I’m sure he loves you just as much.” He sighs and aims for a small but sincere smile. “I love you just as much,” he adds, barely audible, but Bucky’s attention has already drifted. His smile stays on his face though, maybe more aware and a little hopeful, but Steve can’t be sure.

“I hope ya rite.”

“I know I’m right. You’ll see.”

It’s a promise, a vow Bucky won’t remember, Steve is aware of it. In that sense, it could be seen as meaningless. After all, Bucky is not really conscious thanks to painkillers the doctors shot him full of and isn’t even aware that he’s sharing his feelings with Steve himself. And Steve could claim ignorance, make himself forget everything that happened once Bucky is back on his feet and healthy again. He could pretend that nothing has changed. He could.

But he won’t.

No, it’s really time that he started living up to the promise he made that day when Bucky kissed him for the first time. Started taking care of not only himself but Bucky too. Be the partner Bucky deserves, not just a burden he has to constantly worry for. Because Bucky deserves the world and more. Deserves to live without fear that he can never know what will happen to Steve next. And Steve is determined to make it happen. Determined to make Bucky the happiest man in the world.

For that very reason, Steve is happy Bucky won’t remember anything about their somewhat distorted conversation. This way Steve will have the chance to prove his seriousness, his determination and loyalty on his own. He will have the chance to show Bucky how serious he really is about them without Bucky constantly waiting for the other shoe to drop.

“We’ll be happy, I promise,” Steve whispers, looking down at their linked hands.

But Bucky is already asleep.


End file.
